Time Raiders: The Whisper (4 page)

He smiled down at the green-eyed witch whose full, naked breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath. How could any man resist the temptation of such a beautifully shaped woman?

“You are a beast,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I am your master.”

“Not while I’m alive.”

“What? You prefer the sacrifice option? I could offer your heart to Inti. Pachacuti would not begrudge me the sacrifice.”

Marisol’s green eyes flashed like gems in the sunlight. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Gunnar refused to answer, letting her worry the idea.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, then sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be still and quit hitting me.”

“That’s all?”

“It will do for a start.”

“Then will you rape me?”

“If you wish.”

“I don’t.”

“Then we will continue with the demonstration of my sexual prowess.”

“If that’s a challenge, you will fail.”

He leaned over her, his hand holding her wrists above her head, his lips hovering above her own. “I make it a habit not to fail.”

Marisol held her breath as Gunnar’s lips descended on hers, capturing her mouth in a kiss firm yet gentle, unexpectedly tender and completely sucking the fight right out of her.

His tongue traced the line of her clenched lips, urging her to open to him. When she didn’t, he lay down beside her, freeing his other hand to explore the other sensitive areas of her body, starting with the curve of her breast.

Her core heated, sending bursts of fire blasting through her veins. Where his fingers connected with naked flesh, her nerves tingled and the tips of her nipples hardened into pointed peaks.

She gritted her teeth as his lips slid down along the curve of her cheek to the long line of her throat. “In case it makes a difference, you should know that I’m not the least bit attracted to you.”

“Liar.” He nipped her neck where her pulse beat a thousand times a minute.

He called it right. At the moment, she could think of nothing but the way his cock nudged between her legs, the hardness encased in smooth, silken skin. How would it feel to have him thrusting deep inside of her? How would it feel to have a real orgasm after a thirteen-month sabbatical? Had it been that long?

Yes! Marisol threw her head back, her body lifting up off the pallet, her heels digging deep into alpaca hair.

His mouth moved lower to take a nipple between his teeth, rolling the taut nub gently on his tongue.

Her back arched, pressing her breast into his mouth. Marisol couldn’t stop a moan from rising up her throat.

Gunnar moved to take the other breast, applying the same torture. “I believe you fell out of the heavens specifically for me.”

“If you believed that why did you send me…to Pachacuti with those warriors?” Her voice caught when he sucked hard on the nipple and then moved lower.

“In order to secure you as mine, Pachacuti had to give you to me.” His words whispered across her belly and stirred the curls lower still. “He needs to be the one in charge.”

In charge…like Gunnar was in charge of her body? “How did you manage to get him to give me to you? Oh, my… You weren’t even in the great hall.” Her last word came out as a groan.

“By planting the idea in the ear of his most trusted advisor.” The fingers of his free hand threaded through the thatch of hair between her legs until he found the spot.

The spot that made her come completely unglued.

It was several moments before she could think straight and several more after that before she could breathe enough air to ask, “Kentar, the eagle warrior?”

Gunner circled the nubbin at the center of her universe, stroking gently. “No. Pachacuti’s lover, Imac.”

Marisol struggled to regain her focus as Gunnar settled between her legs, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue continuing the steady thrusts against her throbbing flesh.

“Ahh, you played on her jealousy.” Could they really be having this conversation while he played her body like a violin?

“I knew Pachacuti would find you as unique and irresistible as I have.” His fingers delved into her channel, swirling around the juices and digging deeper while his tongue laved her folds.

“The only way for him to release you was to give you to someone else, preferably me.”

“And Imac didn’t find it troubling that you manipulated her? She didn’t strike me as a fool.”

“She’s anything but a fool. She’s a very talented tactician, able to read a battlefield before anyone has actually seen it. She’s the most brilliant woman of the empire.”

Marisol’s gut spasmed, drawing her away from Gunnar’s magic. The man obviously admired Imac. “I didn’t think that women were allowed to lead armies in the fifteenth century?”

“They aren’t. Imac started as Pachacuti’s camp follower when he led the people of the Cusco Empire against the attacking Chancas. Because of her ability to ‘see’ into the enemy camp, she became invaluable to Pachacuti’s army. He honored her by making her the commander of the jaguar warriors.” Gunnar moved up over Marisol, sliding his hand over her arm and down her body.

“You aren’t from here,” she said, struggling to maintain focus on her situation and mission. But her body ruled her mind.

“No, I am not,” Gunnar said, his lips following the path of his hands. “My people came from a land far away and were unable to return. They rebuilt their lives in the other side of the mountains to the east. Like my forefathers, my wanderlust led me over the mountains and into the world of the Incas.” He cocked his brows at her. “Is your curiosity satisfied?”

“Perhaps.”

“Good. We talk too much.”

When Marisol would have asked another question, he moved up to cover her lips with his, stemming the unending flow of questions.

Not that she could concentrate when his body lay flush against hers, his cock pressing against her entrance. Yes, this was the point at which all thought fled, replaced by the flood of lust.

The universe revolved around her and Gunnar. Nothing else existed beyond.

“Do you wish me to stop?” He kissed her lips, her chin, her cheek and each of her eyelids.

In answer, Marisol wrapped her legs around his waist, bearing down on his buttocks, urging him closer, wanting him inside her.

“No.” Gunnar eased his member away from her entrance even as she strained to bring him in. “Tell me you want me.”

Marisol sucked in a breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to slow her pulse. She’d never been this desperate. She felt such a strong pull to Gunnar, it frightened her. She shook her head, though her legs tightened around his waist. “Don’t make me beg.”

He held himself away, his face set in stone, his blue eyes flashing. “Say it.”

Her body screamed for her to comply, her head telling her she was a soldier, specifically recruited for her drive and dedication and her impeccable professionalism. “Oh, yes, I want you!” she cried out. “Please, now!” Her words ended on a sob; she so craved him, she’d pushed aside all that was important to her. The mission.

He slammed into her, his rod thick, heavy and hot, filling her, stretching the walls of her channel until she thought she might split in two.

Her world spun out of control. With him inside her she could feel his emotions, if not his thoughts, sense his excitement, the fiery passion driving him deeper.

Marisol’s ardor mirrored Gunnar’s, taking them to an entirely different level—beyond anything Marisol had experienced.

She reached orgasm with Gunnar, her nerves exploding into in a myriad of sensations, each more intense and powerful than the last.

Afterward Gunnar lay down beside her, his lips pressed against her ear. “Breathe.”

Marisol opened her mouth and gasped, sucking in a long, deep breath, filling her lungs so full they hurt. Her heart kicked into gear, sending a flood of blood rocketing through her system. “What the hell just happened?”

Gunnar smiled, brushing the hair from her face. “Magic.” His hand slid along her shoulder to cup one of her breasts. After a few moments, his breathing deepened and he slept.

She should get up and find her way to Pachacuti’s quarters. After traveling across over five hundred years, hiking into the city and engaging in the most mind-blowing sex ever, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Her arms and legs lay limp and unresponsive, her thoughts hazy, her eyelids heavy.

She blinked. When she opened her eyes again, the room was dark. The only light came from a sconce on the wall in the far corner.

Marisol lay for a time staring at the stone ceiling, her mind whirling. Her eyes widened, and she became aware of a brawny arm around her middle, brushing against the underside of her breast. She couldn’t move her legs with the weight of a massive thigh sprawled across hers.

Her body warmed, the feel of his skin on hers awakening all the desire she’d felt when they’d come together. Her breasts ached, the nipples tightening into turgid peaks.

He’d called it magic.

She could swear she’d been transported out of this solar system into space, outside of her body, outside of time as she knew it. Others who’d completed previous missions had documented these out-of-body experiences, describing just what Marisol had experienced with her own senses. They couldn’t explain it, not given twenty-first-century technology. Yet it had happened to them and to Marisol.

She turned her head to study the man sleeping soundly beside her. Why him? Why Gunnar? Was Gunnar a god as he claimed?

Her core throbbed with the aftershocks of their lovemaking and the need to do it again. Having had sex with Gunnar, she’d never find satisfaction with other men. And once she completed her mission, she’d leave Cusco, never to return, never to see Gunnar, or feel this extraordinary again.

Her chest tightened. She’d only known the man for less than a day. She didn’t know where he’d come from, why he’d ended up in Cusco or how she’d manage to leave him without suffering an acute withdrawal.

She’d been recruited because of her dedication to the mission, her ability to overcome the odds, no matter how dangerous. Yet, here she lay falling apart over a man she barely understood.

Her sense of duty and self-preservation kicked in. The mission came first, which meant returning to her time where women were valued and independent. Where she intimidated men and couldn’t manage a decent relationship.

Carefully, she slipped from beneath the leg draped across her thighs and lifted the arm lying around her middle, laying it gently on a woolen blanket. He rolled to his back, his member flaccid in sleep.

Every fiber of her being shouted for her to lie down beside the Norseman and touch him like he’d touched her, awakening him to the passion they’d shared a few hours ago.

Marisol crossed her arms over her chest, the metal bracelet that brought her to this place pressing against her naked breast, a cold reminder of her duty.

She had to find the medallion, one of many pieces scattered across the planet during varying times. Her team counted on her to retrieve this one, to bring it back to complete the puzzle that might one day link them to civilizations more advanced.

Marisol gathered her clothing, slipping the dress over her head. She quickly braided her hair into plaits on each side of her head, hoping to blend with other females of Pachacuti’s palace.

Dressed and ready to continue on, she cast one last glance at the sleeping god, regret and longing tugging at her to stay. Marisol eased the heavy wooden door open and slipped outside before she could change her mind.

She stood in the deserted corridor. The great hall lay to the right. That was all she knew about the maze of passages. How could she find Pachacuti’s quarters? She couldn’t ask. Someone might report her to the emperor.

Imac. For some reason, Marisol had been able to connect with Imac. If she could enter the other woman’s mind again, perhaps she’d see the way to Pachacuti’s chambers.

With a quick glance right and left to make sure no one was coming, Marisol closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.

The fingers of her consciousness spread. But as far as she could reach in the confines of the palace, Marisol couldn’t find Imac. She was about to give up when she felt her moving through a garden, her steps light, her body low to the ground. She paused beside a wall. A light shone through a window high above her, and voices carried through. Male voices. Imac’s body hunched low, then she sprang up to sit on the window ledge and peer inside.

Other voices sounded in the hallway where Marisol stood. She opened her eyes.

Servants moved toward her, carrying a tray laden with food.

Marisol ducked into a shadowy vestibule, hiding behind a stone pedestal with a statue of a jaguar perched atop. She closed her eyes and sought Imac.

The jaguar warrior still perched on the windowsill, the heat of anger radiating through her.

Marisol’s heartbeat quickened, her own anger rising in response to Imac’s.

Through the other woman’s eyes she could see Pachacuti standing with another man whose back was to the window.

“Beware, great emperor, the shaman’s power grows daily. Did you not feel the earth tremble earlier?” Though his back was to Imac, Marisol recognized the voice as that of Kentar, the eagle warrior.

Pachacuti frowned. “I felt it.”

“He could bring the city of Cusco down in seconds, decimating the kingdom you’ve worked so hard to build.” Kentar’s voice rang out, echoing off the stone walls. “Yet you allow him to live in your palace.”

“His power is undeniable, but he communicates with Inti.” Pachacuti stood tall, his chin lifting. “He could be a formidable foe if angered. What do you suggest?”

“Send him to Machu Picchu. You’ve heard rumblings that Ollantay will attack your kingdom. Tell the shaman he is needed at your temple.”

The emperor stood silent for a long moment. “I need his power here in Cusco. I am called ‘The Earth Shaker.’ If the truth is known…”

Kentar straightened. “Oh great emperor, you can have the shaman’s power.”